Between Friends
by ReluctantSlashFan
Summary: Five times Tony ran into Dean and the one time Dean ran into Tony.
1. Mini Ghost Buster

**2004…**

Tony was still fuming from his most recent encounter with his father. Senior had said a few things in his drunken stupor, mostly about how ungrateful Tony has been and how his mother would have been ashamed of the man he had become; how she would have disapproved of his career choices, too.

He hated playing a Senior, but he had to get some type of alcohol into his system before he started throwing punches. He drove around the city, looking for a bar, but found the majority of them closed. It was three, what did he expect, the places to stay open because he was angry? He eventually stopped at a 7/11 and bought a bottle of Jack. With no destination in mind, he got back in his car and started driving.

After almost an hour of wandering, he stopped at the one place he had been trying to avoid since he had taken the trip to see his father.

He parked his car across the street, made sure he had his id (just in case he got questioned by security), and got out of his car. He snatched his bottle off the passenger seat, and shut and locked his car door, pocketing his keys as he jogged across the street.

If he remembered correctly from his youth, there was a hole in the wall. It must have been his lucky night, the hole was still where it used to be, and with some maneuvering he managed to wriggle himself through. He was surprised it worked; he wasn't exactly twelve-years-old anymore.

He pushed himself to his feet, dusting his jeans off with his free hand, and started walking through the graveyard. He used the light from the full moon to check each gravestone, cursing himself for not bringing a flashlight. He was thinking about just using his cell phone for light, when he remembered he had left it sitting on his father's dining room table. Yeah, he was such a genius.

He managed to find the correct gravesite, taking a seat next to it. He ran his fingertips across the engraved words, reading them: _Margaret A. DiNozzo: 1946-1976 Beloved Mother, Wife, and Friend._

"Hey Mom," Tony said softly as he twisted the cap off the Jack. "Been meaning to visit you," he continued, taking a swig of the alcohol. He made a slight face as the liquid rolled down his face, but he managed to avoid full-on grimacing. "Dad says 'hi,'" Tony said bitterly, taking another sip.

"I will never fully understand that man, Mom," DiNozzo commented drinking some more whiskey. "I mean, he was decent once. I swear, I remember a time when he took me fishing or whatever. But that was before you got sick, before you died." He took another long pull on the bottle, glaring at the ground.

"Why'd you have to die, Mom?" Tony asked after a few moments of silence, his head starting to swim from the alcohol. "If you hadn't of die, things would have been different." he ran his free hand down his face, sniffing. "I wish you were here, Mom."

Tony took a few more sips of alcohol, getting a good buzz going, and was about to say something else when he heard a cry of pain coming from a gravesite a good 10 or 15 yards from his mother's.

The cop in him wasn't drunk enough to not care, so with a quick, "Hold that thought, Mom," he pushed himself to his feet. He stumbled for a second, but managed to keep his footing and started towards the general area of the shout.

He stumbled over his feet twice more, and got lost once, before he managed to find the source of the noise. For a split second, he actually thought he had imagined it, but when he spotted a half dug grave he thought better of it. He started towards the grave, stumbling a third time, and stopped next to a dirt pile. Whoever the grave belonged to (Milly Plant according to the headstone) someone was either trying to rob it or some sicko wanted her body for something else.

Before Tony could fathom what that was exactly, a second shout pierced the air and a body slammed into his. Tony saw white for a few seconds, but came to in time to feel a great weight, on his chest, shift and push off of him. He peeled his eyes open, watching as a blurry shape snatched a shotgun off the ground and fired it at another blurry shape.

Tony's eyesight snapped back into place in time to see the second shape dissipate. He furrowed his eyebrows as he pushed himself up on his elbows, wondering just how much he actually had to drink. He sought out his bottle, finding it half-full, but was sure some of it had spilled onto the ground.

"Get out of here," the first shape snapped, and Tony let his eyes settle on the guy. Guy was pushing it slightly; he was more like a kid. Around Probie's age, he was wearing a leather jacket and jeans, his biker boots slapping against the wet grass as he grabbed his shovel and began digging as fast as he could, keeping his eyes peeled for whatever he had shot at.

"What the hell is going on?" Tony demanded, pushing himself up on unsteady legs. He let his eyes flick around the graveyard, looking for the second person, his bottle clutched loosely in his hand.

"Look, I really don't have time for this," the kid replied digging faster. "If you can just move along, that would be great, thanks."

"I am not moving along," Tony responded stalking towards the kid. "This is someone's grave you're des… dese…" he couldn't think of the word.

"Desecrating?" the kid absentmindedly supplied for him.

"Yes, that. That's a felony, you know?"

"Yeah, and what are you going to do about it, Kojak?" the kid questioned sparing a single glance Tony's way before returning to his work.

"I'll arrest your ass," Tony snapped and struggled to get his wallet out of his pocket. It was then that a chill ran up his back and the breath escaped his lungs in a cloud of fog.

"Okay, buddy, I'm gonna need you to duck," the kid said just as he pointed his shotgun at Tony. Instinctively, DiNozzo went down quickly, the gun went off, and whatever was behind Tony was gone again.

DiNozzo scrambled to his feet, turning in a half circle, nearly fell, and looked back at the kid who had returned to his digging. He wondered how he was going to get a hold of that kid. He didn't have his gun (having left it in the glove compartment in his car), he had no handcuffs, and he was too buzzed to actually see straight. But there was no way he was letting this kid get away, or the kid's friend.

"Look, pal, you'd make my job a hell of a lot easier if you just left me alone," the kid said as he struck the lid of a coffin. He slammed the shovel into the ground, breaking the wood, and pulled himself out of the hole.

"That's it," Tony snapped finally pulling his wallet from his pocket. "You, my psychotic friend, are under arrest," he continued flashing his badge at the kid.

The kid snorted when he read what agency Tony worked for, and walked around the older man to his bag. "I've seen better fake id's, man," he commented grabbing a bottle of lighter fluid and a canister of salt from his bag.

"I hate to disappoint you," Tony started putting his id away, "but it is one-hundred percent real. Put your hands behind your back."

"You have got to be kidding me," the kid muttered shaking his head. "I really didn't want to kick a fed's ass tonight."

Tony's eyes went wide, not from what the kid had said, but from the woman that had just seemed to materialize behind the kid. He couldn't get out a warning before she backhanded the kid to the ground, salt and lighter flew out of his hands as he slammed into her gravestone.

Reacting on instinct, Tony flung the half empty bottle of Jack at her, hoping to at least distract her enough to pick up the kid's gun. To his immense surprise, the bottle went right through her and shattered against the headstone next to hers.

She whirled around to look at him, he gave his 1000-watt smile, and she sent him backwards without touching him. He hit the ground, hard, the air knocked from his lungs. Tony struggled to push himself to his feet, trying to pull air into his lungs. The girl's eyes flashed in anger before he was thrown again, hitting back first into an angel shaped statue.

He was thrown a third time, landing dangerously close to the newly dug grave, and scrambled up on his elbows, crab crawling away from the woman. His hand hit something solid, metal, and quickly he scooped up the kid's gun. He pointed it at the woman and fired, watching as she dissipated once more.

Tony pushed himself to his knees, breathing heavily, very much aware of the pain radiating through his body. He ignored it as he shuffled towards the kid. He stopped short of the younger man, noticing blood dribbling from his head, and staining the grass

"Hey," he said gently shaking the kid's shoulder. "You with me?"

"Dad?" the kid groaned, forcing his eyelids open.

"I sure hope not," Tony joked as two, unfocused green eyes zeroed in on him. The kid looked confused for a good six seconds before his eyes focused once more and he remembered he was in the middle of something. Before Tony could stop him, he pushed himself into a sitting position and grabbed the salt and lighter fluid he had dropped.

"You really think you should be moving?" Tony asked breathing heavily.

"I've got a job to do," the kid replied as he began pouring a liberal amount of salt over the body, every so often stopping to shake his head. It wasn't lost on Tony that he didn't even try to stand up, no doubt trying to avoid stirring up his concussion.

Once the kid had emptied his salt canister, he began squirting lighter fluid all over the body. A chill ran down Tony's back and he slowly pushed himself to his feet, scanning the immediate area for whatever was attacking them.

She appeared next to him, but before he could fire the gun he was flying again. He landed a few inches from a mausoleum, his head connecting with the edge of a close by grave. He managed to stay awake, but barely, and watched as the woman went after the kid.

"Hey!" he shouted pushing himself to his feet. Everything waved in and out of focus, his feet more unsteady than when he had been drinking earlier, and he stumbled towards the woman with the shotgun raised.

She turned to look at him, the gun flying from his hands. It clattered to the ground a few feet from Tony, and soon the woman was inches from his face. He reeled back, his vision blurring again, and tripped over his feet. He hit the ground, a spike of pain jolting through his head and down his back. He tried to crawl away from the woman, but he was too dizzy. She was barreling down on him, and he had a gut feeling that this was it.

Then she let out a scream and burst into flames. Ashes fell through the air before they slowly dissipated, and Tony was left with wide eyes and an aching body.

"Holy hell," he whispered looking up to see the kid approaching him.

"Not exactly," the kid responded offering Tony his hand. The older man hesitated a second before taking it. He was pulled to his feet, the ground tilting underneath him, and latched onto the kid to keep himself from falling.

"What the hell was that thing?" Tony questioned looking at the kid.

"You really want an honest answer?" he retorted helping Tony over to a small bench. The kid lowered the older man onto the seat before moving across the graveyard to get his stuff.

"Yes," Tony replied indignantly.

"Ghost," the kid replied as he shoved his collapsible shovel into his bag. "Her name was Milly Plant. She died fifty-six years ago, and has been terrorizing a bunch of kids at a local orphanage. Now she won't be doing that anymore."

"A ghost?" Tony questioned skeptically. "That was a ghost?"

"You've just saw her with your own two eyes and still doubt me?" the kid questioned as he zipped up his bag.

"Not doubting so much as thinking that Jack has driven me crazy," DiNozzo muttered wiping blood out of his eyes. He glanced at the still burning grave and said, "Not gonna fill that in?"

"Wasn't planning on it," the kid responded throwing his bag over his shoulder, wincing slightly. He walked back towards Tony, looking down at him with a relaxed smile on his face, "Still gonna arrest me, Agent DiNozzo?" Despite the smile, his eyes were still guarded.

"You said an orphanage, right?"

"Two blocks away. The woman who runs it is named Gerty. She's too motherly for my taste, but if you want to go and talk to her then have at it."

Tony nodded, glancing at the burning grave again. He knew Gibbs would let the kid go; he was helping a group of kids, doing one of the few things Gibbs would approve of, but Tony wasn't Gibbs. This guy had broken the law; he threatened a federal agent, and did who knows how much damage. He should have been hauled off to the local police station the moment Tony ran into him.

But for the life of him, DiNozzo couldn't bring himself to arrest the kid. So, instead he nodded his head towards the exit and said, "Get out of here."

"Excuse me?" the kid's eyebrows raised slightly, the only indication that Tony had taken him by surprise.

"Get out of here, kid," he repeated giving him a relaxed grin. "We'll just keep this between friends, okay?"

"Why are you helping me?" the kid questioned still not moving away from Tony.

"I'm not helping you. I'm helping me. No one is going to believe this if I tell them." Tony nodded towards the exit a second time. "Go on before I change my mind."

"Thanks, I guess," the kid said and started walking away from Tony. He stopped short, turning to look at Tony again. the older man gave him a questioning look and the kid said, "You do realize you wasted a perfectly good bottle of Jack, right?" And the mini Ghost Buster was gone, leaving Tony laughing quietly on the bench.

For a while, afterwards, he just sat in silence watching the smoke from the grave furl into the air. He couldn't believe he just helped some kid fight a ghost; a real, live (well, not exactly live) ghost; a ghost that gave him quite the beat down.

With a groan of pain, Tony slowly pushed himself to his feet. He shuffled towards the graveyard's exit, the sky beginning to lighten some, hoping he never ran into that kid again. He had a feeling it would make his life a bit easier.

**SPN/NCIS**

**This is a first for me. I am publishing a multi-chapter story that is actually finished. Yes, I am trying to get away from putting up WIPs.**

**Anyway, this is my take on the 'Five Things' series. I wanted to do one for a while, and the fact that I finally get to do my Tony/Dean friendship story, I am actually very excited about this.**

**So, let me know what you thought, I thank you for reading, and I own neither Dean nor Tony.**

**BYE!**

**P.S. There will be a new chapter every Monday until this story is completely published. Just so you know.**


	2. The Ghoul Slayer

******I figured I should probably start telling you guys when each chapter takes place. So,**** this takes place in season one of SPN and sometime in season three of NCIS. So, probably around Boxed In for NCIS and before Asylum/Scarecrow for SPN. I say before because during Scarecrow Sam makes a comment like: 'How old were you when Mom died? Four? Jess died six months ago.' So, yeah, that episode was set in May... or the writer's messed up, I don't know. So, before Asylum/Scarecrow.**

******Thanks for the reviews, alerts, and favs last chapter. You guys are amazing.**

******So, yeah, thanks for reading, I own neither show, and I should go.**

******BYE!**

******NCIS**

**2005…**

"How many murders has there been so far?" Ziva asked as she followed Tony through an alleyway. Half the lights had blown out in that neighborhood, leaving both agents in almost complete darkness.

Gibbs had sent him and Ziva downtown to check out one of the earlier crime scenes again while he and McGee checked out another crime scene a few blocks away. It wasn't much of a lead, and they probably weren't going to find any suspects for the string of murders, but it was the closest they had come in a week.

"Five," Tony replied stepping over a puddle of some identifiable substance. He glanced back at his partner, still having mixed feelings towards her. She had been part of their team for a few months, and he had been through more crap with her than his first two years on Gibbs' team combined.

"As gruesome as the bodies looked, you would think this guy would have been caught by now," Ziva commented shining her flashlight across the ground.

"Not really," Tony retorted, "Jack the Ripper was never caught and his last victim…"

"Yes, but Jack the Ripper was alive before all this forensic stuff. You would have thought he would have left something behind."

Tony made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat and both fell silent.

They searched the area a few more minutes, finding nothing useful, and Tony suggested they split up to cover more ground. Ziva agreed and they went their separate ways, agreeing to stay in constant cell phone contact.

DiNozzo let his flashlight sweep across the ground, not finding anything remotely useful, and wondered if Ziva was having any luck. It was doubtful, and with their luck Gibbs and McGee were getting all the action while they most likely were going to run into a homeless person or something.

With a sigh, he was about to give it up as a bad job, when he heard someone shout, "Get off him you son of a bitch!"

Tony looked around, trying to pinpoint where the voice came from, and suddenly heard the distinct sound of fighting coming from directly behind him. He turned and raced towards the commotion.

He thought about calling Ziva, his cell phone actually in his hand, but ended up putting it away when he skidded around the corner of the alleyway and his flashlight shined on two figures wrestling on the ground while a third was struggling to get to his feet.

Tony stashed his flashlight in his jacket pockets and rushed towards the struggling pair. He managed to pull the two off of each other, holding them both at arm's length. For a split second, Tony thought one of the guys he was holding back looked familiar, but a sharp pain stopped him from investigating further.

He looked down, his eyes widening when he saw one of the guys' mouth clamped around his wrist, and he let both men go in surprise. The guy that bit him released his wrist and sprinted away from Tony and the other man. Instinctively, Tony grabbed his gun just as he was shoved to the side.

DiNozzo hit the ground, very nearly hitting his head on the dirty concrete, and heard the two guys start fighting again. He sat up, watching as the third figure soon joined the fight, and Tony knew he had to break it up before someone ended up hurt or worse.

He scrambled to his feet, firing two warning shots, hoping to get Ziva's, or anyone's attention. He then headed towards the fight, once again pulling one of the three men away from each other. He kept a loose grasp on that guy and grabbed a second, struggling to keep a hold of both, watching as the third sprang to his feet.

"You are letting it get away," the shorter of the two men, Tony was holding onto, snapped. "Sam," the guy said and Sam nodded, doing some freaking maneuver and breaking free of Tony's hold.

DiNozzo tried to grab him again while keeping a hold of the other one, but he was already out of his reach, picking up a pipe sitting on the ground. Tony watched in horror as the guy, this Sam, slammed the pipe into the retreating man's head.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tony shouted letting his charge go and stalking towards the other guy.

"Believe me, you wouldn't understand," a voice said from behind Tony. He turned, a part of him recognizing that voice, and struggled to get his flashlight out of his pocket. He flicked it on, letting the beam shine on the guy.

Dark hair, leather jacket, jeans, and biker boots: Tony had met this guy before; two years ago, in a graveyard, on the anniversary of his mother's death, fighting a ghost.

"You," he said softly.

"Agent DiNozzo?" the guy replied furrowing his eyebrows, shielding his eyes from the light's beam.

"Dean?" Sam moved to stand next to his-what to call him-partner. Now, in the light, Tony was able to see a shaggy haired brunette, possibly in his early twenties, standing next to the kid from two years ago; this Dean. For some, strange reason Tony felt the name suited him.

"What the hell are you two doing here? And why did you just kill that guy?" Tony questioned looking between the two guys. He glanced down at his sleeve, noticing fresh blood staining it. Now that he wasn't fighting, he was starting to feel a little dizzy.

"Hey, you okay?" Sam asked reaching out to check his arm.

"I'm fine," DiNozzo insisted pulling his arm out of the younger guy's reach. "Answer my questions."

"You remember a few years ago. Come on, you can't tell me you still don't believe in all this crap. We fought a ghost together," Dean said, smirking slightly, glancing over at the dead body. "That's like a ghost except it's-what's that word-corporeal. Yeah, it's corporeal."

Tony remembered the day he met Dean quite well. More importantly, he remembered waking up the next day, trying to convince himself it was all a dream brought on by alcohol. Until he looked in the mirror and saw how colorful his body was from the fight the night beforehand. It was around that time that he realized it wasn't a dream, he wasn't crazy, and he fought a ghost with some strange kid.

He also remembered walking into work Monday morning, covered in bruises and cuts, his head bandaged, and telling Kate and McGee that he had been mugged. They had asked if he had filed a report, but he had told them it wasn't worth it. They weren't going to find the perp, a report would be a waste of time, and he could easily 'cancel' anything that needed canceling. Then he had to make a show of calling up credit card companies, just to keep up the façade.

He had told Gibbs the same story, but he knew his boss never quite bought it, and Tony often wondered if Gibbs thought he and Senior got into it. However, since Gibbs couldn't prove Tony was lying or the latter had happened, he had to accept Tony's story as fact. Though, Tony noticed that his boss kept an extra eye on him for a while after that day.

"If it's not a 'who' then what the hell did you kill?" Tony demanded but both ignored him.

"I didn't know he helped you with a hunt," Sam stated looking back at Dean.

"It wasn't important," Dean replied softly as he slowly started collecting their supplies, getting away from the light from Tony's flashlight.

"And if it is an 'it' then why does it look like a person?" Tony tried asking again, but still neither guy acknowledged him.

"Not important? You ran into a federal agent a few years ago. How is that not important?"

"Sam," Dean said in a warning tone.

"Did he arrest you?"

DiNozzo watched as the two continued to, another wave of dizziness washing over him. He looked down at his arm again, blood drenching his sleeve and dripping onto the ground, and was about to say something about it when his legs gave out.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean exclaimed racing forward to catch Tony before he hit the ground.

"It bit you, didn't it?" Sam asked moving forward also, checking Tony's arm.

"Yes," Dean replied keeping a grip on DiNozzo. Tony tried to get away from him, but his legs wouldn't cooperate, and Dean's arms were the only thing keeping him standing. Everything was getting fuzzy, his arm was still bleeding heavily, and he knew he had to get a hold Ziva as soon as possible.

"Look, we need to get you help or you could die," Sam said calmly, still holding Tony's arm, looking down at the blood.

"My car is around the corner," Dean commented getting a better grip on Tony, and leading Sam out of the alleyway. "We'll drive you to a hospital. Ghouls have sharp teeth and probably tore into something they shouldn't have."

"Wait, Ghouls?" Tony questioned trying to keep his eyes open.

"Dean," Sam said softly, warningly.

"He knows about this crap, Sammy," Dean responded digging in his pocket for his keys. "I told you, he helped me fight a…" Dean was shoved him from behind, cutting his words off. He and Tony slammed into the ground, Dean's head colliding with the filthy concrete while the air was knocked from Tony's lungs.

The thing turned the older of the two onto his back, looking down at him with a twisted grin, his teeth flashing. Tony looked up at the man, thing, struggling to take a breath in, smelling its awful, putrid breath as it leaned into him to take another bite.

The thing's, ghoul's, teeth barely grazed Tony's throat, when a sickening thud made it freeze. It turned, looking up at Sam holding a pipe, and jumped off Tony to go after him. Sam swung the pipe a second time, missing the ghoul, and was pushed back into a wall. He hit the brick, sliding to the ground, clearly stunned.

As the ghoul stalked towards the younger guy, Tony scrambled to his feet. His vision blurred for a second, his legs were unsteady, but that didn't stop him from moving towards the downed pipe. He scooped it up, took a mighty swing at the ghoul, and felt more than saw the metal connect with the thing's head.

It went down, blood pooling around it, and Tony dropped the pipe. His legs gave out on him again and he hit the ground, everything swimming around him. He thought he heard someone call his name, but he was unconscious before he could be sure.

**SPN/NCIS**

Tony awoke to fingers running through his hair. He slowly opened his eyes, giving his vision a moment to clear, and finally met Ziva's dark circled eyes. She smiled when she caught his eyes and said, "I have been wondering when you were going to wake up."

"What happened? Where am I?" he asked softly, looking around the room.

"You're in a hospital. Do you not remember what happened?" she responded giving him a worried look. He wracked his brain for a moment, flashes of the other night coming back to him. Although he remembered most of it, he dared not say anything about it. She'd think he was crazy, and it was too soon in this partnership for her to see just how screwed up he really was.

So, he cleared his throat and said, "I… I was attacked by a dog. I guess, I hit my head when I went down, must have blacked out.

Ziva's eyebrows furrowed, looking down at his bandaged wrist. He followed her gaze, looking at the white bandages himself. It seemed the ghoul _had_ taken a large chunk out of his wrist.

"How did I get here?" DiNozzo asked hoping to distract her from any further questions.

Ziva looked away from the wound, meeting Tony's eyes. "I found you lying on the ground, your jacket covered in blood, with a handkerchief wrapped around your bite." Hey, at least Dean and Sam attempted some sort of first aid before leaving him by himself. "At first, I thought you were dead…"

"Well, I'm not," Tony replied giving her a small smile. He thought back to the ghouls, wondering how those bodies were going to be explained, and figured it would probably be blamed on the killer they had been investigating. Then he started thinking, what happened if these 'ghouls' were behind these killings?

"Tony, are you sure it was a dog bite?" Ziva asked and he looked her way.

"It was a dog bite, Ziva. Trust me."

She gave him a skeptical look, but he wasn't about to give anything else away. He didn't know why he kept protecting this kid, maybe it he saw something in the kid, something that reminded Tony of himself. Or maybe he had just been working for Gibbs for way too long.

As much as he believed it was the former, a part of him was convinced it was the latter. _Maybe I should have joined the FBI,_ he thought shaking his head.

**NCIS**


	3. Tony DiNozzo: Vampire Hunter

**This takes place sometime after Nightshifter for ****SPN and sometime after Twisted Sister for NCIS.**

**2007…**

"Come on Probie, just one small detail," Tony asked following his friend out of the bar.

"I've told you a million times, Tony, I do not kiss and tell," Tim responded searching his pockets for his car keys.

"Oh come on, McSecret," Tony begged following his partner. "Just a hint. A mini hint. A teeny, tiny, little…"

"Tony, I'm not going to…" McGee trailed off as the sound of broken glass sliced through the air.

The two guys furrowed their eyebrows before silently rushing towards the noise, drawing their guns when they turned the corner and saw a body lying on the sidewalk, right out front of a single story building. They started towards the body, Tony looking around for anyone else while Tim crouched down to check the guy's pulse.

"He's alive," McGee informed DiNozzo.

"Probie look," Tony said pointing up at a broken window a few feet above them. McGee looked up and nodded, pulling his cell phone from his pocket, intending to call for backup and an ambulance, but a scream sounded from the building.

They shared another, quick look before rushing towards the front doors of the building. The once padlocked doors now stood wide open, a chain sitting on the ground next to them.

DiNozzo took the lead, pushing the door open, noticing more blood splattered across the interior walls. He glanced back at his partner, mouthing the word 'blood.' McGee nodded and the two continued into the building.

They split up the moment both were inside the entry way, McGee going left while Tony went right, both silently agreeing to meet back up in five minutes.

The right side was empty, and Tony slowly started back towards the front door, just as a familiar shout of surprise erupted through the building.

"McGee!" Tony shouted and rushed towards the younger man's shout. He desperately started searching for his partner, looking into every room he came across, his heart thudding against his chest. He was not losing another partner; he was going to find Tim.

He crashed through the last door just in time to see a Tim get thrown across the room by some pale guy. McGee hit the wall hard, leaving a crack in the drywall, and slammed into the ground. He didn't move again.

"Tim!" Tony shouted and tried to rush across the room, but tripped over something in his way. He went down, hard, landed on his wrist wrong. Pain jolted up his arm, and he nearly cried out in pain as he pushed himself to his knees.

He looked around to see what he tripped over, his eyes settling on a familiar face. He barely had time to see if the person was okay before he was grabbed from behind and tossed across the room like Tim.

He landed on his hip a few feet from McGee, skidding across the floor before he came to a rest next to his partner. Tony painfully pushed himself up, looking over at Tim. He was bleeding from his nose and head, his left arm resting on his chest while his right was thrown over his head. If it wasn't for the blood, Tony would have thought he was sleeping.

"Hey, Probie," Tony said softly, lightly tapping Tim's face with his good hand. He didn't get a response, and Dinozzo feared the worst. He gently rested his fingertips on his partner's neck, feeling a steady pulse beat against his them. "Oh thank God," he whispered feeling a wave of relief roll through him.

"Thank Him all you want," a chilling voice said from behind Tony. "Your friend won't be alive for long."

"Neither will you," a second, more familiar voice said and DiNozzo whirled around to see his 'old buddy' Dean standing in the doorway. He was holding himself oddly, and Tony remembered the body lying on the sidewalk. He really hoped it wasn't Dean, but a gut feeling told Tony that's exactly who it had been.

"I thought I took care of you," the pale guy said, flashing his sharp teeth.

"Come get me you fugly some of a bitch," Dean snarled twirling the machete in his hand. The thing (Tony was really starting to hate running into Dean) rushed towards the guy, and Dean swung the machete, hitting his opponent in the arm. Blood spurted from the cut, staining the off-white wall.

Dean swung the machete again, but the thing moved back too fast, and the younger guy sliced through air. The thing was back on him in seconds, taking advantage of his speed, and shoved Dean backwards.

As the younger guy flew out of the room, Tony painfully dragged himself to his feet, scooping up his downed gun. He fired three shots at the thing, all three hitting him in the chest, but instead of killing the thing, he just managed to piss it off.

It whirled around, snarling, and moved towards Tony so fast, he came across as a giant blur. He grabbed DiNozzo by the neck, lifting him off his feet with inhuman strength (_Inhuman? Ha)_. Tony's toes barely touched the ground, and he noticed the thing's eyes flash.

"Gonna have to do better than that," the thing said before pulling Tony towards him. He squeezed DiNozzo's throat, black dots dancing in Tony's vision, and then took a bite out of his neck.

Sharp pain erupted from DiNozzo's skin, reminding him vaguely of the ghoul, the black spots beginning to slowly invade Tony's vision, and he was sure he was going to pass out.

Then he was let go, slamming into the ground, coughing so hard he nearly transported back to when he had the plague. He dizzily pushed himself up, noticing the dead thing lying on the floor, headless.

In fact, now that he wasn't in the middle of a life or death situation, he now noticed a few other headless bodies strewn across the room, also. Dean was standing above Tony, holding a bloody machete.

"You're welcome," the kid said before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed to the ground.

**SPN/NCIS**

According to the kid's I.D., his last name was Bonham. A gut feeling told Tony that wasn't his real last name, and he wondered just why the kid would lie. He almost ran his fingerprints; perhaps he'd find a criminal record, but decided against it. Again, he felt the need to protect the kid.

It had been almost an hour ago since Sam woke up and convinced Tony to drive the small horde to the hospital (something told Tony a room full of bodies would have been harder to explain than showing up at the hospital beaten and bruised). McGee was still getting tested for anything worse than a mild concussion, and Tony wanted some of his damn questions answered. He knew Sam wasn't going anywhere, Dean had had been rushed into surgery when the doctors noticed all the glass sticking out of his back, but Dinozzo just couldn't find the kid anywhere to question him.

He eventually found Sam outside, sitting on a bench, talking on his phone. Tony stopped short of the kid, listening to the end of his conversation. "Yeah, Bobby, I took care of the scene." Well, that explained where he was when Tony couldn't find him. So, he had been wrong, but it's not like Sam went far. "Now, I'm still waiting on word from the doctor. He was thrown out a window by that son of a bitch." Sam sighed. "I'm fine, Bobby. He just clocked me in the back of the head."

The kid ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "Yeah, I'll call you the moment I get any news. Yeah, see ya." And he hung up, stashing his phone in his pocket.

"Friend of yours?" Tony asked hoarsely, making the kid jump.

"Uh, yeah," he replied nodding slowly. "Look, I'm sorry about your partner."

"He'll be fine," DiNozzo replied softly. "McGeek has a hard head." Sam nodded absentmindedly, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. "So," Tony continued painfully clearing his throat, "mind explaining to me what the hell is going on, Mr. Bonham?" Sam remained silent, giving up on the thread to run his hands down his jeans. "Look, Sam, I know that's not your real last name."

"How could you possibly know that?" the younger guy asked looking up to meet Tony's eyes.

"A gut feeling," DiNozzo responded taking a seat next to Sam. "You wanna tell me why you two are lying?"

"It's the job," Sam answered vaguely, shrugging his shoulders, not even bothering to deny he was, in fact, not Sam Bonham.

"Sam…"

"Look, Agent DiNozzo…"

"Tony," DiNozzo corrected automatically.

"Tony, it's complicated, and I really shouldn't be sharing anything with you of all people. I mean, you are a fed, and we haven't exactly had the greatest track record with law enforcement of any kind."

"I could always run your brother's finger prints," Tony suggested making a show of getting up.

"No!" Sam shouted yanking Tony back onto the bench. Pain jolted through DiNozzo, and it took all of his willpower not to wince. "T-that would be a _bad_ idea."

"How much trouble are we talking?" Tony questioned eyeing Sam critically.

The younger guy was quiet for a few moments, but finally said, "I swear it wasn't him. You believe in this stuff, right. What we do?"

"Kinda hard to deny it exists when I've run into a ghost, a ghoul, and whatever that thing was tonight, since meeting you're brother."

"Vampire," Sam said softly, a small smile playing across his lips. Tony's eyes widened for a second, but he quickly composed himself. He couldn't believe he had fought a creature right out of a John Carpenter movie tonight, one of his biggest fears, and actually lived to tell the tale.

Sam swallowed, his smile slipping, a troubled look clouding his face. "Dean got into some trouble last year. We were, uh, hunting a shapeshifter, and it had killed a few people before taking Dean's form. It called the cops on itself, or well Dean, and now he's on the FBI's most wanted list."

Tony was quiet for a few moments, his mind trying to wrap around not only the existence of shapeshifters but also the fact that this kid he kept protecting was in trouble with the FBI. Gibbs would have a field day with this, and McGee would most likely start a new book about a character named Damon who was just trying to make a difference while avoiding the law. Tony wondered if it'd be a best-seller, too.

"What's so funny?" Sam asked curiously, and DiNozzo realized he had been chuckling softly, shaking his head back and forth.

"I really need to stop running into your brother," Tony responded looking over at Sam. "And don't worry; your secret is safe with me."

"And your partner?"

"It looked like he hit his head pretty hard; I'd be surprised if he remembered any of this."

"Why are you helping us?" Sam asked slowly, his face serious.

"Kid, I've been asking myself the same question since the moment I met Dean," Tony responded pushing himself to his feet. "Just do me a favor."

"What?" Sam looked up to meet Tony's green eyes.

"The next time you feel the need to come to D.C., don't."

**NCIS**

**Are you getting tired of the Tony and Dean Whump? Because I can tone it down it you want. *evil laugh* Or probably not...**

**Yes, I'm putting this up a day early. I have some time to kill, took a look through this chapter, fixed some stuff, and here it is.**

**I want to thank everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited last chapter. You guys are awesome.**

**So, let me know what you think, I do not own these character, and I should go.**

**See ya next Monday!**


	4. Ginger Snaps and Attacks Tony

**This takes place very early season three for SPN and during season five of NCIS. So, before Fresh Blood (SPN) and a few episodes after Bury Your Dead (NCIS).**

**NCIS/SPN**

**2008…**

Tony was enjoying a relaxing day off. He had spent the morning catching up on sleep, played a quick pick up game of basketball with his college buddies a few hours before lunch, had a quick lunch with Ziva, Abby, and McGee, and was planning on having dinner at Gibbs' that night.

He had about an hour and a half before he was due at Gibbs', and had decided to take a run through the park. He usually went during the daytime, but today had just been so busy (or lazy depending on who was asked) that he decided a night jog was better than not jogging at all.

He drove to a small, secluded park. He parked his car in a small parking lot, made sure his doors were locked, and pocketed his keys before he began running.

He started out at a slow pace, using the lights marking the path to keep an eye out for anything he might trip over, or animals. That was all he needed, to run into a raccoon or a skunk.

He picked his pace up the further he got down the trail, checking his watch periodically to make sure he was staying within his time limit. He didn't want to be late and miss one of Gibbs' cowboy style steaks. If he had been on death row, Gibbs' cowboy style steak would be the last meal he would request. That or Ziva's lasagna, either dish would suffice.

All that 'talk' about food was making his stomach growl. _Wait,_ Tony skidded to a halt, _that wasn't my stomach._ DiNozzo looked around, fearing he had disturbed a bear or something. Here he was worried about a skunk or a raccoon, when he really should have been worried about something bigger.

When the growl sounded a second time, Tony figured it was time to get back to his car. He didn't know what his chances were of out running a bear, but he did know that if he climbed a tree they couldn't follow him up. So, he decided that if it came down to it, he'd climb the closest tree, and wait out the bear.

He began running back to his car, bordering on a sprint, hearing another growl split through the air. He made a mental note to restrict his running to the daytime, and to stay clear of the forest.

He saw his car up ahead, the light shining on it like a beckon, and was just getting his keys from his pocket when he was tackled from behind.

He landed on the ground, the wind knocked out of his lungs, his keys flying out of his hands. Tony turned over onto his back, expecting to see a bear, but was surprised when he noticed a human standing above him.

Except, this human had long, sharp fingernails, silver eyes, and pointed teeth. He was also drooling and leaning down to take a bite out of Tony. DiNozzo tried to fight, but the thing swatted his hand away with enough force to nearly break his arm.

For a split second he wondered if Gibbs would start looking for him right away, no doubt this thing (and he hated that he even knew about the supernatural) was going to kill him, but was saved the trouble of finding out when a gunshot rang through the air.

The thing flew over Tony, landing in a heap next to his head. DiNozzo scrambled to his feet, snatching his keys off the ground, looking around for his savior, noticing two figures walking towards him. _Thank God they didn't listen to me, _he thought running a shaking hand down his face.

"I swear, it's like you're stalking me," Tony feebly joked in a slightly quaking voice just as Dean and Sam came into view.

"You're welcome," Dean replied looking down at the thing he had just killed.

"What was it?" Tony asked glancing at it, too. He was surprised (or was he?) to see the things nails, teeth, and eyes had returned to normal.

"Werewolf," Sam supplied putting his gun away.

"So, fur is optional?" DiNozzo muttered as he looked down at the body again, wondering just how many supernatural creatures resembled humans? Or how many humans were unfortunate enough to get turned into these creatures?

"We're sorry you became our bait. It was supposed to be Dean," Sam threw his brother an annoyed look, "but you ran by instead."

"Is every supernatural thing real?" Tony questioned looking between the two brothers.

"Bigfoot is a hoax," Dean said as he walked towards the body.

"At least there's that," DiNozzo responded drily, following Dean. "We've gotta call this in or something."

"You do that, but wait until Sam and I have gotten out of Dodge first."

"Naturally, I mean it's not like I've covered up anything for you guys before," Tony muttered recalling several occasions where he had to lie to keep Dean (and Sam by default) out of trouble. He was starting to feel sorry for those cops in the know on those witchy Charmed/Buffy shows.

"At least runners will be safe, now," Sam commented letting his eyes sweep across the forest, probably looking for anymore werewolves.

"Runners?" Tony was usually pretty good at keeping up with cases, but this one was news to him.

"The news called them 'animal' attacks," Dean responded as the small group headed towards the parking lot. Tony noticed neither brother had a vehicle parked in any of the spots, but that didn't mean their car wasn't around there somewhere.

"But there was one key thing the papers were neglecting to add," Sam continued as they stopped next to Tony's car.

"What?"

"No hearts," Dean supplied and Sam nodded. "Werewolves usually remove the hearts from their victims."

"Why?" Tony asked curiously.

"They eat them," Sam responded and Tony made a face. "I know, kinda gross."

"Anyway, it was nice chatting with you again," Dean said as he headed back down the small path, towards the road.

"I'm sorry we keep laying all this crap on you," Sam mumbled softly, looking back at his brother. "If you ever need any help…" the younger guy pulled out a piece of notebook paper and a pen, scribbling his number down. "Don't hesitate to call."

Tony wasn't sure he was going to be calling these two brothers anytime soon, but he took the number just to be polite. "Don't worry about it," he said looking over at Dean. He really wished he knew why he continued to help out that kid. "Just get out of here." Sam nodded and hurriedly chased after his brother.

The moment they were gone, Tony glanced down the path where they had left the body. He wondered how he was going to explain that, and figured he could always say he found the guy dead. It would eventually turn into a cold case, but at least it'd get anyone off Dean and Sam's back for a while.

With a heavy sigh, Tony pulled his cell phone from his pocket and headed back down the path to the _Ginger Snaps'_ reject. He really hoped he never ran into those two again.

**NCIS/SPN**

**I didn't want Tony to come off sounding nonchalant, I mean (technically) a human has been killed, but while reading through it I got that feeling. So, I am sorry if he did come off sounding slightly uncaring. Perhaps once his adrenaline wears off he'll actually start to think 'That was a human. Oh crap.'**

**Anyway, yes, this is early again. I have too much time on my hands. Anyway, thanks for reviewing, alerting, and all that jazz last chapter. You guys are awesome.**

**So, yeah, thanks for reading, I own nothing, and I gotta go.**

**PEACE...**

**P.S. I found myself hating the last two chapters, so I may be a little late getting chapter five up. But I will make sure I get it published before next Monday ends. Okay, so I don't really hate all of chapter five, but I need to tweak a lot of the stuff that happens. But, alas, I do hate chapter six. So, that one will have to be entirely rewritten. Ugh, when did I become such a snob about my writing? Oh well...**


	5. Two Tonys, Two Deans, and a Castiel

**This takes place directly after Good God Y'all for SPN. And sometime during season seven for NCIS.**

**Thanks for reading...**

** NCIS**

**2009…**

Tony tried to recall how exactly he ended up in this predicament. He remembered leaving work late, Gibbs having each one go over their reports twice before allowing them to turn them in. He had collected his stuff, said good-bye to McGee and Ziva, the latter throwing him dirty looks wile the former ignored him. (It wasn't his fault he found her and McGee in a compromising position. And yes, he knew it was an accident, she tripped and Probie attempted to catch her, and taking pictures was a tad immature).

He had ridden the elevator down to the parking garage, got in his car, noticed he needed gas, and had headed to the nearest gas station. Maybe he should have gone to another gas station. Perhaps he should have just said 'Screw the gas. I'll walk to work in the morning if I have to.' Or maybe he should have just taken the extra fifteen seconds to apologize to Ziva and McGee.

But no, he stopped for gas. He had stopped for gas and ran into a very familiar, leather jacket clad person, who happened to be pumping gas also.

At first, Tony hadn't recognized who his gas buddy was, but when he heard 'Hey stranger' he knew who he ran into.

He should have just grabbed his credit card receipt, said a very quick 'Good-bye' and just left. Why did he ask Dean how he was doing? Better question, why did he ask Dean what he was doing in D.C?

He should have known. Really, had almost six years taught him nothing? He really deserved a head slap at that moment.

But Tony had noticed Sam wasn't around, and for a heart stopping moment he actually thought Dean's brother had died, but the younger guy had assured Tony that Sam was, in fact, still alive. "He's just taking a break from hunting," he had said softly.

"So, you're hunting on your own?" _Bad Tony bad_, a voice, sounding so much like Abby's, scolded him. He should not have asked that question. He should have said 'Good luck' and left. But there was something about that damn kid.

"I've got help," Dean said, and Tony knew he should have kept it at that.

"Come on, let me help." Why was he so stupid? God, maybe he should have let Ziva murder him with that spoon.

"This isn't a ghost or a ghoul," Dean replied replacing his gas cap. He closed the gas tank's door and took his receipt from the machine. "Trust me."

"Give me six seconds to drop my car off and I'll help you. It's the least I can do after the many times you've saved my ass." The least he could do? No, the least he could have done was to let Dean go on his way.

"I guess I could use the company, but only for staking out. This isn't something you should be messing with."

Warning signs, Tony should have picked up on the warning signs. Instead, he nodded, got in his car, and Dean followed him as he drove to his apartment. At his building, he parked his car, collected his badge and gun, locked the vehicle up, and got into Dean's Impala. He was an idiot.

**NCIS/SPN**

They did stake out for a while. Dean wouldn't tell them what they were watching, but whatever it was had taken up shelter in an old motel. Or Tony thought there was something in the motel. Dean had been looking at the building through a pair of binoculars for a while now.

"I figured staking out monsters would be more entertaining than staking out bad guys," Tony commented looking around Dean's car. There were some food wrappers littering the car, an open duffle bag on the backseat with clothes and a couple weapons spilling out, and a pile of bloody rags lying on the floor.

"Are you bleeding?" Tony asked turning to look at Dean.

"What?" the younger guy looked up just as a car drove by, his eyes flashing in the headlights. Tony's own eyes widened as he reached for the door knob, his hand wrapping around the metal and yanking it open.

He fell from the car, landing hard on his butt, and crabbed crawled away from the Impala while the faux-Dean tore his door open and raced around the car. Tony pulled his gun from his holster, pointing it at Dean.

"Come any closer and I will shoot you," he warned but the thing just smirked and continued to head Tony's way. Given no other choice, Tony fired twice into the thing's chest. DiNozzo expected it to, at the very least, drop, but this thing just glanced down at its chest and looked back up at Tony.

"Going to have to do better than that," it said before backhanding Tony in the face. He fell to the dirt, his head knocking into the hard earth, and was out seconds later.

**NCIS/SPN**

He was now tied to the real, half-conscious Dean. Tony thought back to the faux-Dean. He hadn't made eye contact, didn't make any of his patented, off-handed comments, nor did he try very hard to convince Tony to stay away. He should have frigging seen it.

"Why'd I have to meet you," he whispered to the kid tied to his back. "My life was so much simpler."

"What?" a half groggy voice asked and Tony felt Dean move slightly.

"Never mind," he responded looking around the old motel. He figured the thing (whatever it may be) had been making sure no one was lurking around his hideout before he took Tony. That was all he needed; witnesses, or Dean to be waiting to kill it.

"H-how…" Dean moved again, most likely shaking his head to clear it. "How'd you get here?"

"I thought that _thing_ was you," Tony replied trying to look over his shoulder to see Dean, "but I managed to meet your evil twin instead."

"Shapeshifter," Dean replied softly, moving again. Tony felt something sharp nick his finger, and he realized what Dean was doing.

"Rule number nine," he whispered with a smirk.

"Huh?"

"Never mind," Tony responded glancing around the room again. "Where'd it go?"

"It's most likely committing some type of heinous crime, while wearing my face, so I can get into some more shit with the FBI."

"Sam mentioned that a while back," Tony commented softly. "Speaking of Sam, he's not…"

"No, we split up a while ago," Dean said working steadily at their ropes. "Again," he added bitterly.

"That's what your evil twin said."

"Yeah, well sometimes it's easier to tell the truth than to come up with a total… Got it." The ropes fell from their hands and Tony pushed himself to his feet. His legs felt numb and his head hurt, but he still offered Dean a hand up.

Dean's legs buckled when he made it to full height, and Tony's grip was the only thing keeping him up.

"What did it do to you?" he asked helping Dean over to a dilapidated chair.

"The down side of carrying guns," the younger guy replied, moving his flannel to flash his bleeding side (that explained the bloody rags), "is sometimes the bad guys find them and shoot you."

"Are you okay?" Tony asked checking over the wound.

"Been better," Dean responded before covering the wound and nodding towards the door. "Our best bet is to get out of here and find my car. We need silver, and there's nothing in here worth helping us."

"That explains why the damn thing didn't die when I shot it," Tony commented wondering just how many weird looks he'd get if he suggested they switch their sigs' regular bullets with silver ones.

"Yeah, well, we need to get to my car," Dean murmured trying to push himself to his feet. His face went paper white, his forehead scrunching up with pain, and he lowered himself back onto the chair.

"You alright?" Tony asked worriedly.

"Just give me a minute," the younger guy muttered, breathing through the pain, fighting to keep his eyes open. Tony was all for giving the kid a minute, but he heard a creak come from the other room.

"Come on," he said pulling Dean to his feet. He pulled the kid's arm over his shoulder, wrapped his own arm around his waist, and half dragged/half carried him to the front door. "Sometimes I wonder how you are still alive."

"You and me both," Dean responded under his breath.

"And me," a familiar voice stated. Tony turned slowly, noticing himself standing a good ten feet from Dean and him, the real him. Not that dude standing there in jeans and a leather jacket, looking like him. _This is going to get confusing._

**NCIS/SPN**

"Does it make me a narcissist if I think you look handsome," Tony questioned meeting his green eyes.

"Oh, you two are the same person," Faux-Tony commented with a smirk on his face. "Hiding behind jokes and smartass comments. I mean, I'm not sure where you end and he begins." He jerked his head towards Dean.

"Do they always monologue?" Tony asked Dean and the younger guy nodded. "Typical bad guy."

"Always think we want to know their plans," Dean mumbled his eyes flicking to the corner before looking back at the shapeshifter. Tony followed his gaze, but didn't see anything.

"Funny, but I really don't have time for your quips," Faux-Tony said pointing his gun at Dean. "So, let me kill your friend, wound you, and go about my business."

"Oh, not even going to kill me?" Tony asked in fake curiosity. "But aren't you afraid I'll come kill you."

"That'll be kind of hard when you are in jail." And the thing pulled the hammer back, the barrel pointed directly at Dean's forehead, only to jolt forward as a long, pointed sword-like knife speared his back.

"I told you I'd be back," a deep voice said as the owner yanked the blade from his back. Faux-Tony dropped, dead before he hit the floor.

"Cass, it… took you… long enough," Dean said in a breathy voice. "Were you… cloud hopping?"

"I could not find you," this Cass guy replied moving to take Dean's other side. "I had to sense…" he looked at Tony. "…Agent DiNozzo."

"Lucky me," DiNozzo muttered as he and Cass helped Dean outside.

"We should take you to a hospital," Cass suggested once they were outdoors.

"No… no hospitals," Dean murmured still fighting to keep his eyes open.

"But…"

"I know someone," Tony blurted out. "He'll help, as long as you don't mind him telling a couple stories."

"Let's go."

**NCIS/SPN**

Ducky was just getting home when Tony pulled up in Dean's Impala. Cass had stayed behind to take care of Faux-Tony (an involuntary shiver went down DiNozzo's spine at the thought of his doppelganger), leaving Dean in Tony's care.

"Okay, kid, come on," DiNozzo said putting the Impala into park and removing the keys. He pushed his door open; calling Ducky's name, and raced to the passenger side.

"What happened?" Ducky asked as he approached Tony.

"Gunshot wound, but I really need you to _not_ ask questions," Tony responded helping the incoherent hunter out of the car.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked into Tony's shoulder. DiNozzo ignored the question as he followed Ducky into the house.

"I don't understand why this boy isn't in a hospital," Ducky said heading towards the kitchen.

"Ducky no questions, please."

"It wasn't a question, just an observation," the older man replied clearing his kitchen table. "Place him on the table and show me where he's wounded."

Tony did as he was asked, with some difficulty (Dean wasn't exactly a lightweight), the sturdy table holding the kid's weight. DiNozzo then started stripping him of his flannel. Now that he was in better light, Tony could see just how much blood Dean had lost. His gray t-shirt was soaked in crimson.

"Oh dear," Ducky uttered returning to the dining room with a first aid kit. "I may need more than I have here."

"I can go…"

"No, I'll call…"

"Ducky, I'm serious; I can't let anyone else know about him." Tony wished he knew why he kept protecting this kid. Maybe the shapeshifter was right; maybe they were the same person. Or he was just delusional.

Ducky sighed and said, "Fine, but you need to get exactly what I say."

**NCIS/SPN**

An hour and a half later, Ducky was stitching up Dean's bullet wound. Tony paced back and forth across the living room's floor, waiting for the inevitable questions despite the fact that he had asked the older man to hold off on asking for the details.

What was he going to tell Ducky? That he had helped Dean on several occasions, and the kid in question was only bleeding because a shapeshifter looking like him (and later like Tony) had shot him? Yeah, that wasn't going to happen.

"How's Dean?" a voice questioned, a figure appearing next to Tony and stopping him mid-pace. He nearly jumped out of his skin, his heart pounding against his chest.

"Holy crap," he said breathing heavily. "Where the hell did you come from?"

"How's Dean?" Cass, Dean's teleporting friend, repeated. In the light, Cass seemed shorter than his voice suggested. He was also in need of a decent meal and a good tailor. Maybe some sleep.

"My friend is patching him up," Tony replied softly.

"He is going to be okay, yes?"

"I don't know," DiNozzo admitted shrugging. He hadn't actually gotten an answer from Ducky when he asked.

"Then we will wait," Cass stated and sat down on one of Ducky's couches. Tony eyed the dark haired guy cautiously as he lowered himself into a lounge chair. The living room fell into an uncomfortable silence, but it was quickly broken up by Ducky saying, "He's resting…" the doctor trailed off.

"Oh, hello," he said pleasantly. "When did you get here? I didn't hear the doorbell ring."

"It is because…"

"I noticed him pull up," Tony interrupted the dark haired guy. "He's a friend of the kid's. He wanted to see how he was doing."

"Oh, well, he's going to be okay. As long as he takes it easy," Ducky responded eyeing Cass curiously. "Though, I am not used to taking bullets out of live people, I am certain it did not hit anything vital."

"Can I see him?" Cass asked getting to his feet.

"Yes, he's in here." Ducky gestured to the dining room behind him. As Cass left the room, the older man looked back at Tony and said, "We need to talk."

He led Tony outside, keeping the door open a crack, and continued, "I know you said no questions, but…"

"Trust me, Ducky. You are better off _not_ knowing."

"Lad, are you in trouble?"

"No," Tony responded hurriedly, hoping to wipe the worry off Ducky's face. "It's just…" he drew in a deep breath, slowly let it out, and said, "It's complicated."

"Anthony, you showed up at my home at two-thirty in the morning. You bring a friend who is bleeding from a gunshot wound. Obviously something happened. You can trust me."

"I know I can Ducky…" he closed his eyes, breathing heavily. He couldn't tell Ducky about what he had been doing with Dean. He couldn't drag the experienced ME into this shit. That was one thing he would never do; it was bad enough McGee ended up hurt because of it, but if something happened to Ducky. If something happened to any of his friends…

"Please don't ask me to tell you, Ducky," DiNozzo finally whispered. "Just, let me keep it to myself."

Ducky was quiet for a moment, but he finally bowed his head and said, "Okay, if you insist."

"Thanks," Tony replied with a smile. He cleared his throat, checking his watch. "Do you mind if I crash here tonight?"

"No, that would be okay."

"Thanks."

Yeah, Tony was sick of the secrets, but unlike the whole Jeanne fiasco, he was lying to protect everyone he cared about; just like he kept lying for the kid. There was just something about Dean. He just wished he knew what that was exactly.


	6. One, Non Supernatural Night

**This takes place before You Can't Handle the Truth for SPN and after Tony started 'dating' EJ in NCIS. Since the timeline was all screwy for SPN during season six, I'm just pretending season eight of NCIS took place around the same time as season six of SPN. Fair warning...**

**NCIS**

**2011…**

Dean had to get away from Sam. There was something off with him, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, and a gut feeling told him he should stay as far away from his brother as he could.

But this was Sammy, his little brother, the same Sammy that used to cling to his hand and ask all those annoying questions. Why would he want to avoid Sam?

Instead of answering his question, he found himself heading towards a bar, after telling his brother he was going out for a bit. Sam had offered to go with him, but Dean had told him not to worry about it. That he wouldn't be gone long.

On the drive to the bar, Dean had almost called Cass twice, but his angel buddy wasn't exactly the ideal drinking partner. He didn't know anyone else who would drink with him, unless he called a certain NCIS agent, but he had a feeling Tony wouldn't want to drink with him anyway. So, he was drinking alone tonight.

**SPN/NCIS**

He stepped into the semi-packed bar about ten minutes later, heading towards an empty booth in the back, only to have his arm grabbed. He was swung around, too surprised to fight off whoever had him, and unceremoniously deposited into a chair at a tall, round table.

"Okay, so, what are we hunting and what are my chances of ending up in a hospital?" a familiar voice asked and Dean looked up to see Tony sitting across from him.

"Nothing and most likely none," Dean replied with a small, forced smile. "I was…" he sighed, a waitress appearing at their side to take their order. Both guys ordered a beer and she nodded and walked away. "You know, I've known you over six years and we haven't actually had a conversation."

"Something didn't happen to Sam, did it?" Tony asked, his eyebrows creasing slightly.

_Maybe, _Dean thought, but verbally said, "No, he's fine. I just needed a break from him. You know how siblings can be." The words were barely out of Dean's mouth when he realized he didn't even know if Tony had any siblings. In fact, after six years of acquaintanceship, he knew little to nothing about the older man across from him.

"If it's anything like having to get away from Ziva and McGee after a long day, then yes I do. The whole close quarters, spending _way _too much time together thing…"

"Yeah," Dean half-lied, not wanting to explain the unease he felt around Sam. He helped raise the kid, and even when he found out Sam had demon blood in his veins, he never felt like this before, like he should just take Sam out and leave. This feeling was new, foreign, and he hated it.

"Something up?"

"Why?" the younger man wondered if Tony was reading something on his face. He had perfected hiding his emotions when he was six; he doubted a NCIS agent could detect any type of emotions from him.

"You seem…" Tony trailed off when their beers arrived. Dean took a long pull on his bottle, hoping DiNozzo would let the line of questions drop before they began. He didn't want to talk about his life.

"So, did you ever hook up with that frizzy haired chick?" Dean asked when Tony opened his mouth to speak.

"How'd you know about Ziva?" Tony replied carefully, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I noticed her when Sam and I left you after the ghoul. We barely managed to get spotted by her, and Sam still isn't convinced…" Dean trailed off, shaking his head. "Just wondering. I mean, she was pretty hot."

A small smile played across Tony's lips, but he shook his head and said, "She's with CI-Ray. So, no hooking up will be done anytime soon. Besides, I'm sure EJ'd kill me."

"I didn't peg you as a monogamist relationship type person," Dean commented and Tony snorted.

"Four years ago I wasn't," DiNozzo replied softly. "But sometimes things change."

"Yeah." Dean tried not to think about his year with Lisa and Ben. Sometimes he wondered why he didn't explain to Lisa why he had acted the way he did that night. She would have understood it was because of the vampire virus. But he knew he couldn't keep himself tethered to her world, not when he was back in the hunting world; back with Sam.

He barely kept a shiver at bay, draining the remainder of his beer. He signaled for another beer and said, "Anything creepy on your end?"

"Not that I know of," DiNozzo replied softly, slowly. "Though, I thought I saw a werewolf the other day. It turned out to be a cat's eyes flashing."

Dean smiled slightly, thanking the waitress when she placed a new beer on the table and took his empty bottle. He rested his elbows on the table, crossing his arms. He leaned forward, his chin coming to rest on his right wrist.

"Abby would call that look 'broody and pensive,'" Tony commented and Dean looked up to see him smirk behind his beer. "You wanna…?"

"Nah, it's nothing," Dean responded softly, hurriedly.

"Come on, Dean, hit me with it. I'm sure I've heard worse."

"I think…" Dean trailed off, a small part of himself trying to talk himself out of what he was about to say. It wasn't true. It's just because they were separated for a year. But sometimes Sam would look at him…

"Has anyone you've known ever drastically changed?" the younger guy finally asked, looking up at Tony.

"Like…?"

"You know, like someone you've known your entire life one day seems like a complete stranger?"

Something flickered across Tony's eyes, and he cautiously said, "Is that happening to you?"

Dean shrugged, grabbing his beer and taking a drink. "It was just a question," he muttered looking down at the table.

"Look, I'm not very good with the sharing, but I will listen if you need a friend."

"So, we're friends?" Dean asked looking up, a smile on his face.

"Kid, we've hunted monsters together, and you've saved my life a time or two. If we aren't friends then something has to be wrong."

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. His smile slipped when he thought of Sam again, and he said, "My brother…" he cleared his throat, taking another pull on his beer. He gently set the bottle down and continued, "My brother is acting weird."

"How so?"

"Um…" what could he say? That Sam was acting too normal. That there was a creepy vibe that rolled off of him. That he, Dean, pictured just putting a bullet between his brother's eyes and taking off. "I think there's something wrong with him."

"Supernaturally wrong?" Tony asked curiously, his eyebrows furrowing.

"I don't know. Maybe. We were separated for a year last year; he could have just changed."

"But you think there's more to it."

"Yeah," Dean responded nodding his head. "I mean, every time he walks into the room…" he drew in a deep breath. "I've helped raise Sam, I know him better than anyone. I have this… feeling he's not my brother.

"But I can't do anything about it. You know, in case he really has just changed. And even if I had to…"

"Have you talked to Sam about this?" Tony questioned carefully, his voice quiet.

"How exactly would that conversation go: '_Hey, Sam, sorry to bother you, but is there something supernaturally wrong with you or are you just acting weird_?' I'll pass, thanks."

"I don't know what to tell you, buddy," Tony replied taking a drink. Dean snorted, shaking his head. Here he was, telling Tony fricking DiNozzo his inner most secrets. Maybe he should have asked Cass to drink with him after all.

"Sometimes…" Dean cleared his throat, draining his beer. If he kept up the constant drinking, he should have a nice buzz soon. "Sometimes I think about killing him."

"What?" Tony lowered his beer, giving Dean a cautious look. He shouldn't have said anything; this was crossing a line he had never thought he would cross.

"Never mind," Dean whispered signaling for the waitress. He needed something stronger than beer.

"Dean, what are you saying?"

"He scares me, Tony," the younger man snapped, unable to stop himself, his vision blurring slightly. "I can barely be in the same room with him. Sometimes I wonder if it'd be easier…" the waitress appeared, cutting Dean's words off.

"Want another beer?" she asked smiling.

"Whiskey," Tony replied before Dean could open his mouth.

"Okay." And she went back to the counter to get their drinks.

"Look, I don't think killing Sam is going to solve any of your problems."

"You think I don't know that," Dean questioned leaning over the table. "I don't want to kill him, but that thing…" he sighed, running a hand down his face. "That thing can't be my brother."

They fell silent as the waitress appeared with two shot glasses and a bottle of Jack. Tony told her to leave the bottle, and she smiled before walking back towards the counter.

"Did you ever think of parting ways again?" Tony questioned, pouring a liberal amount of alcohol in each shot glass.

"We've tried that several times, but we always seem to team up again," Dean responded draining the whiskey in one gulp. "Besides, I have this thing about leaving him alone."

"Your family is weird," Tony commented throwing his own beverage down his throat.

"You have no idea," Dean responded pouring more whiskey into each glass.

They continued to drink in silence, Dean pondering what Tony had said. Killing Sam wasn't an option, no matter how much he thought about it. And he couldn't just abandon Sam again. But being around this new, _un-_Sam wasn't an option either. He was up shit creek without a paddle.

"I'm sorry I wasn't more help," Tony stated after a very long, drawn out silence.

Dean shrugged and said, "I wasn't planning on running into you, or telling you any of this, so…"

"Hey, what are friends for?" DiNozzo's face turned serious, and he quietly asked, "You aren't going to kill Sam, right?"

"Probably not," Dean replied honestly.

"And you aren't going to leave him are you?"

"Nope."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Honestly? I don't know." A bleached blonde walked by at that moment, flashing Dean a smile. "But I _do_ know what I _can_ do."

"You really think an evening of her will solve all your problems?" Tony asked nodding towards the blonde.

"Oh, I hope so," Dean replied getting to his feet. DiNozzo shook his head, rolling his eyes, flashing Dean a forced smile. It probably wasn't a good idea, but Dean didn't care at that moment.

**SPN/NCIS**

The blonde's name was Candy. Dean thought of many cheesy lines that went with her name, but he was Dean Winchester. He didn't use cheesy lines.

He hit it off quite nicely with Candy. Of course, she probably had a couple drinks running through her system; she was bound to hit it off with anyone. Though, the giant guy walking towards Dean probably hit it off with her a long time ago.

"Oh, is this your girlfriend?" Dean asked before the guy could open his mouth. "I didn't see your name on her." He noticed her shirt move, exposing her stomach, and a name flashed back at him. "You know, unless your name is Frankie."

"Get up," Maybe Frankie responded while two other guys appeared behind him.

"This isn't the greatest time," Dean said turning to look up at the group. "Now move along."

"I said get up," the guy repeated.

"And he said move along," a new voice said and Tony pushed himself between the small group and Dean, flashing his badge. "You don't get outta here; I'll find something to arrest you on."

Maybe Frankie looked torn, obviously not wanting to go to jail but also wanting Dean to pay for even talking to his girlfriend. The prospect of jail must have turned him off of the idea because he grunted and headed towards the exit, his cronies in tow.

The girl looked bummed that nothing was going to happen, so she stood up and trudged after the group of guys. Dean watched her go before letting his eyes flick back to Tony. "Look at you, whipping out your badge like that; someone might mistake you for a navy cop." He felt like he should be mad that Tony broke the expected fight up, but he was too tired to care right then.

"I'm laughing on the inside," Tony responded as the two guys walked back to their table. "You think picking a fight will help you with your Sam problem?"

Dean shook his head, pouring some more whiskey into his shot glass. "I could have taken those three."

"I bet you could have," Tony replied nodding. "I was just trying to help out the bar's owner."

The younger man snorted, looking down at his drink. "Oh well, she probably had something…"

"…hinky?" Tony supplied shrugging.

"Sure, hinky," Dean replied smiling. "Hinky? I like that word."

"Thank Abby."

It was a while later when Dean and Tony left the bar. They stopped just outside, Dean the first to break the silence. "So, it's been real."

"Isn't it always?" Tony replied with a small smile on his face.

"And thanks, you know, for listening." Dean ran his hand across his neck, feeling awkward.

"Hey, when you work for Gibbs, you need to learn how to listen. Otherwise…" and he lightly hit the back of his head. "But it hurts worse and leaves your ears ringing."

"He sounds like my dad," Dean muttered glancing down at his feet. "Though, it was more 'do as your told, boy' immediately followed by a head slap."

"Well, Gibbs was a marine," Tony commented shrugging.

"So was my dad."

They laughed slightly and Dean shook his head. He then checked his watch and jerked his thumb towards his car. "I should head out."

"You could always crash on my couch," Tony suggested, shrugging.

"Thanks, but…"

"Yeah, that weird family obligation thing."

"Bingo," Dean replied quietly.

"Just be careful, okay? And if you run into trouble, you have my number."

Dean wouldn't call, but he did nod in faux-affirmation. He then smiled and turned to head towards his car.

"You know, in six years, I've never learned your last name."

"You never bothered to run it?" Dean asked but didn't turn around.

"I thought about it. Of course, if I wanted to read more lies thought up by the FBI, I would spend more time with Sacks."

"It's not important," Dean responded after a few moments' pause. He then headed towards his car, calling over his shoulder, "See you around, DiNozzo."

"You too, Winchester," Tony retorted and Dean smiled slightly. He then shook his head and got into the Impala. Maybe knowing Tony DiNozzo wasn't such a bad thing after all.

**THE END…**

**Yes, I published the last two chapters fairly early and really quickly. I just wanted this story out of the way so I can finish other things.**

**But don't fret, I actually have news. Benny (my partner in crime, unwilling BFF, and my sometimes beta) and I are working on a companion piece to The Stranger in the Bar. I tried to fit it into this story, but it just wouldn't work. Just letting you all know, so when it gets put up (when we finish it, or get pretty close) you guys might want to check it out.**

**Anywhoo, thanks for the reviews, alerts, and favs last chapter. You guys are amazing.**

**Anyway I own nothing, drop a comment if you want, and I should go.**

**SEE YA!**


End file.
